He frowned. It wasn’t in his nature to leave someone like this, but the longer he remained, particularly with a mount, endangered himself and her as well to the depravations of the Union Army that he feared wasn’t far behind him.
“I’m not sure how I can help you. Have you any family?”
Her cheeks flushed as she stood, shaking her head. Holding tightly to the lead she had on the dog, she gave him a look that penetrated his soul. “This, kind sir, is my family now. My father and brothers went to the army and died. My mother, at a loss without my father, came down ill, and with all the docs at the war, she got no help, died. Then the Yankees came, demanding food and whatever else they could find, only to torch my home afterward. So no, I’ve got nothing.”
He shifted in the saddle, toying with his next words as he pulled an orange out of the saddlebag. “Here, take this. Brought it here, but I think you need this more than me.” He bent forward and handed it to her, and she grabbed it, instantly yanking at the skin like a soul who hadn’t eaten in days.
“Look, don’t suppose you’ve seen the Army of North Virginia? Lee’s Army?”
Her brows furrowed. “You must be mad.”
“Perhaps. But I just escaped my capture by the Yankees and want to return to the fight and get them out of our land, so people like you can be safe and get your property back.” He gave her a smile, hoping.
She nodded. “I’d like that. Most disrespectful group I’ve ever seen!”
He searched his pockets and found a solid silver coin. It was the only one he had. “Here, its real silver. Might get you a trip to Richmond. When you’re there, find my father. He’s a senator, Mr. Pierre Fontaine. Tell him his son, Francois, sent you. You’ll be okay.”
She held the coin, twisting it one side to the other and even took a bite on it, checking its validity. “I thank you for this. As to the army you seek, I saw them yesterday, traveling that way. With the number in their ranks, you should reach them by nightfall.”
He peered in the direction she pointed and could see a flurry of hoof prints in the dirt field. He tipped his hat. “Thank you.”
Chapter 32
“That man will fight us every day and every hour till the end of the war.”
—General James Longstreet’s prediction on Union General US Grant
Washington DC, January 1864
“There, how are you feeling today?”
The pale young man blinked, swallowing the broth she fed him and managed a weak smile. “Still wishing I could just die, ma’am.”
Inhaling to build herself stronger, Ada fought not to grimace. The boy was an amputee, missing both legs from the knee down. He’d been a farmer’s boy, one whose whole future had been destroyed by the war.
“Please, don’t wish that. The Lord has bigger plans for you.” She tucked the blanket in tighter and moved to the next patient, praying for relief from the dismal thoughts that plagued her. Yet the next didn’t, as the man was too ill to do much more than swallow his broth.
She walked back into the kitchen area and threw the metal cups she’d been using into the washbasin with such force they banged loudly, just like her temper.
“My, rough day?”
She gritted her teeth. Will always seemed to show up when she least expected it. She’d returned to duty two weeks ago, after her forced furlough over the holidays, minus her rebel patient. That outcome should have improved her feelings, but alas, it did not, especially on how that came about.
“No, just normal. Battered and sick men wishing to be anywhere other than here.” She replied, ignoring facing him.
“Ada,” he said softly, taking her arm and turning her toward him. “I’m sorry but I’m not sorry. You know as well as I do, that man was no good for you. Beneath you, truly.”
She widened her gaze, laughter forming in her throat. “Which one are you referring to? Or do you mean both?”
“Ada…”
She was furious. How dare that Southerner just accuse her of treating him like he did his slaves! If it wasn’t such a turnabout on fair play, she might have laughed, but a slap across his cheek erupted instead. How dare he!
Her pacing returned, infuriated at the entire evening. Richard had surprised her, showing up unexpectedly, and it was such a surprise. His deep brown eyes sparkled when he smiled, and he’d done a lot of that as they danced. She’d managed to get two out of him before that malcontent she’d been treating stormed over to her, claiming a dance. Shocked, she couldn’t speak fast enough, but Richard conceded, giving her a knowing wink as he walked away. She hadn’t even gotten out of him how long he was in New York or where he was staying.
Then, Francois’s collapse required them to leave. He’d no doubt injured his foot again, and it made her want to scream. She managed to get them out gracefully, but she was irritated. It shouldn’t have surprised her that the man actually came to her room, but any intimacy between them was dead in the water to her. Oh, her body churned, deep and low, but she squashed that idea as quickly as she could. Her exam on his ankle told her he needed rest and ordered it done. Whatever else he argued, she never heard as she’d blocked him out of her thoughts…
By the next morning, she’d woken refreshed, her anger dissipating through the night. She went down to breakfast, fully expecting Francois to be there, though with him not, she decided she’d go see him. Wrapping a biscuit in a napkin, she stood, though James came to her side.
“Is there something wrong, milady?”
She frowned. “No. I thought I’d take this up to Mr. Fontaine, since he’s not here…”
“No, ma’am, he won’t be.
